


His Song

by Raven Elliot Conners (SometimesRaven)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alien Character(s), Alien Culture, Alien Gender/Sexuality, Aliens, Fantasy, Gen, Genderfluid Character, Nonbinary Character, Origin Story, Orphans, POV First Person, Princes & Princesses, Short One Shot, saga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-09 08:53:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12273063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SometimesRaven/pseuds/Raven%20Elliot%20Conners





	His Song

Where I am from, the word for "song" does not only mean the tunes we sing to pass out time. It also means "story" -- more correctly the story that tells us who we are. When I travel, I ask all I meet: "What is your song?", and the answers I receive are always different and interesting. Some tell me their whole life. Some tell of a friend or family member they love very much. Some tell me of their ancestors, their jobs, their homeland. Some do not yet know their song, but tell me of other songs they hear.

When I met with the Shifter Prince, Ro, he too told me his song. It was a song of fear and passion; yet he spoke it with a smile as though he had no real attachment to it. He told of the injustices he had seen over the course of the Second Great War, and how he meant to escape that but came to want to change it instead. He spoke of his family, who shunned him for turning to the Kalka'shar, my people, for refuge from the fighting. He spoke of his wounded cousin who still fought despite the pain he was always in. There were tears in his eyes when he spoke of his sister, driven mad by our war-songs but still so kind to him, and he laughed as he told of the days the Elder Princess, Ruby, had to teach him to wear clothes when he first came to Kalka'shar country. Ro's song was love for his family, and hope that things could change for the better.

What I didn't expect the Prince's song to hold, however, was such love and thoughtfulness for  _strangers,_ particularly a nameless  _Para'ka._ Before I could extend my question to the Princess, he interrupted me with a question I never felt I could hear from Royalty:

"What's  _your_ song, Enchanter?"

As a _Para'ka,_ an orphan from birth who travels to find their name and home, it is not customary for me to give my song; I must hear the songs of others and they must find my song as they grow to know me. Royalty are not expected to even  _name_ me, but to ask my story was the highest honour, even if that royalty was a Shifter rebel. It took me a long time to think as I had never had to consider my own song at any real length.

In the end I told him of my travels. "Mine is the song of the hills," I told him, "of the blue-green grass that grows there. Mine is the song of the fields and the flowers, and the brave souls who use water to keep the crops alive. Mine is the song of the dark, cold places that nobody wishes to visit, and the creatures new and ancient I found there. Mine is the song of the woman in Arath, white of hair and strong of fire, who put her life in danger to protect her brother the blacksmith. Mine is the song of the Hills of Elant'il, where lovers and lifemates meet to receive the Gods' blessing, and mine is the song of all who leave disappointed.

"My song is not my own," I continued with brown eyes narrowed in contemplation, "my song is the people I meet and the places I see. These swirling scars that mark my right arm are marks of my journey; a curled line or row of dots for every new place I visit or name I receive. Mine is the song of all others like me, who search for names and homes and purpose. My song, my Prince, is yours; the rebel of such courage and passion that he would leave everything behind for the sake of good and right. My song is the royal family's song, who are kind and just enough to protect our people and take in all who seek refuge."

The Shifter Prince looked up to the burning fire skies then, deep in thought. "And your song," he wondered after a moment, "is that of a man? Woman? Or are you a changing one like so many here?"

I told him I am ever-changing, but the titles of men sing to me in all but romance.

"Then," he continued, looking to his lover the Princess, "I think Saga is a name fit for ever-changing men."

"I believe you are right," the Elder Princess agreed with her graceful smile, for she is an ever-changing woman.

"Are you familiar with the common Human tongues?" Ro then asked me. I told him I knew of two; the one they called  _Mandarin_ and the one they called  _English._ "In the English tongue, Saga is their word for a long story, or many stories together."

I confessed I had heard of this word, with excitement like sparks in my chest.  _The Prince was giving me a name!_

"In my tongue, the tongue of Shifters, we also have this word," he continued, his eyes blue and bright as the berries some artists used for their paints, "but in my tongue it means 'brave'."

 _Brave._ I thought over this word for a long time, as he explained that in his mind my travelling in the midst of war, and my persistence to discover and learn, was just as brave as our soldiers and healers on the front lines. I was not sure I agreed but the look of certainty in his eyes and the Princess' alike was enough to convince me somewhat of its truth. 

 _"Sa-ka,"_ I tried (for we Kalka'shar do not have this sound of 'g'), and the prince laughed -- though not in such a way that made me think I was mocked. Rather, he seemed to like the way it sounded from me.

I'm not sure for certain when I decided to keep  _Saga_ as my God-name, but I think it may have been then. I can say it far clearer now, of course, as I learned to speak the human common tongues better.

Mine is the song of Saga -- the longest story; the brave. Mine is the song to give life to so many others -- the brave and the unnoticed in the dark, lost places. To that end I have decided to keep a record of each story I hear; an unconventional practice, certainly, for my people pass their stories down through song, but a necessary one to truly keep those songs alive in the hearts and souls of those to come.


End file.
